Crime of Passion
by rinaree
Summary: Shannon Henry is attracted to Lawson Blake, but he's oblivious. Besides, he has a girlfriend, and another man has his eyes on her. RATED M FOR LATER.
1. Tension

hey people!

a holiday project since school's out (for now, for me) and Rush finished up for the year. my first ever fanfic, so i'm freaking nervous like hell! i usually frequent on FictionPress, so yeah. i'm a huge as fan of Shannon and Lawson and this is a bit of AU-ness. :D

oh, and I don't own anything at all, of course. although i want my own Lawson! LOL.

**HEED THIS WARNIN'! **rated M for _heavy_ coarse language, smut and violence. gonna change the rating later, alright? ;) i swear too much, too, so if you can take it, then awesome!

phew, enough of that! enjoy and HAPPY HOLS! (:

x

**Crime of Passion**

_Chapter One _–_ Tension_

SERGEANT SHANNON HENRY sighed, rubbing her tired eyes from the late night she had with her mate and colleague Stella Dagostino at the pub, drinking beer and playing pool. She knew it was a really bad idea to drink when work was early the next day, but Stella was insistent on her 'living life, which really connoted the hidden message, 'having drunk sex with random strangers'. Sure, she liked having a beer with her friends, but not too often. It was ridiculous, really.

"Come on, honey! Play the field! Meet some penises!" Stella had said to her last night at the locker room, when she asked her to go to some new nightclub downtown. She punched Shannon's arm playfully, a mischievous, all-knowing smirk on her lips. "Come on. I bet you haven't fucked a guy since Josh."

Shannon had rolled her eyes at her friend, even though this fact had been true. "So what, Stel? I don't want a fuck right now. I'm dedicated to my job."

Stella scowled at her, stubbornly, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Bullshit! You know, for a gorgeous girl, you don't put out much. But, I guess that's how Sergeant Shannon Henry rolls. I swear, you're like…" she trailed off, eyebrows creasing in thought, searching for an adequate term for this, "…a female version of Lawson."

Shannon frowned right then. Was she _really_?

Now, as Shannon examined her bags under her eyes in the mirror of the locker room, she scoffed in disbelief at the dark purpleness of it. _Why, thank you, Stella!_ Shannon thought fiercely, pulling the prominent, loose skin from under her left eye. Never again she was going to stay up late when she had work. Dammit. Was she that relenting?

Not that last night had been a blast anyway. Five minutes after she and Stella had arrived into the club, her ever-so-faithful friend had abandoned her, because she had to 'go to the restroom', which really implied, 'making out with some blonde chick somewhere at the back of the club'. And so Stella had left Shannon with a copious amount of alcohol and horny men wanting a good time from her. Of course, Shannon with the acid tongue, had to give them a piece of mind. And a splash of cranberry and vodka on their faces.

_Frickin' Stella_. She ought to _kill_ her. Figuratively, of course, because that would be ironic, considering she was a cop.

Shannon groaned in exasperation, rummaging through her make-up bag for her concealer to hide those stupid circles.

"Shan. Good morning," Senior Sergeant Lawson Blake greeted her from behind.

She froze, feeling her heart palpitate wildly, just like the one million and one times she had whenever Lawson Blake was around. "Hello," she replied, turning around to face him. "I mean, hey." She shook her head. "I mean, good morning."

_Stupid_, she cursed at herself, wincing inwardly. _Just fucking stupid. Fuck my life._

Lawson loped over to her casually – coffee in one hand, banana muffin in the other – while staring at her intently, through heavy-lidded eyes. His fixated gaze dipped down her body, pausing at _certain_ areas, scrutinizing every damn inch, before his eyes roamed back up to her face.

And she felt uncomfortable, awkward._ naked_, at him looking at her like this, like she was under a freaking _microscope_ or something, trapped in his gaze.

It was like as if he was _checking her out_.

And the gradual close proximity wasn't helping also. She couldn't help but feel that all-too-familiar _lust _for him, that began to rear its ugly head again.

But they couldn't. No.

Because they were colleagues.

Moreover, he was her boss.

Oh, and the _slight_ fact he had a girlfriend.

Even though they _did _have a thing all those years ago.

Even though the whole 'sleeping with the boss' fantasy was a huge turn-on.

Still, even mentally chanting the reasons why she could not have these feeling towards Lawson Blake was not enough to stop the rapid beating of her heart as he leaned into her, close enough for her breasts to graze against his toned chest. The way she was breathing hard and labouredly, as his face leaned towards hers, close enough for her to feel his coffee breath blowing against her lips.

Was he going to _kiss_ her?

But didn't he have a girlfriend?

Her breath caught. She swallowed, her eyes fluttering shut, waiting… anticipating…

Until, "Late night?"

_Eh? _Her blue eyes popped open immediately. "Huh?" she breathed.

Lawson's eyebrows creased together as he observed her face. "You have circles under your eyes. That's all. I figured you were out last night." He grinned boyishly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What? Hot date or something?"

Her head was still spinning, absolutely bewildered. Bastard. He dare he do that? Not that it was intentional of him to do that, but it certainly made her pissed. What a fucking tease!

She gave a tight smile. "Maybe," she said mysteriously, after recovering. She decided to tease him. Ruffle his feathers a bit. "Certainly the best root I had in a long time."

His entire body changed right then, and he was a bit… crestfallen? Shannon watched as he swallowed, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. As his jaw clenched, cheeks tightening. As his teasing grin was wiped off completely, and replaced by a grim line forming on his lips. As his eyes darkened, the light toffee brown turning into a deep, dark chocolate. As the coffee cup in his hand crushed as he fisted.

"Oh, really," he deadpanned. His face was impassive, blank, however managed to show so much emotion at the same time. "Well… that's good then. I'm happy for you."

He didn't _sound_ happy for her.

Shannon opened her mouth to say she was just kidding, that there really was no guy. That she was just teasing.

But Lawson had already walked out of the locker room, his footsteps loud and echoing.

Shannon frowned at his sudden change of mood. _What the fuck was wrong with him?_

"WHAT THE FUCK'S wrong with him?" Constable Christian Tapu whispered to Shannon, eying Lawson warily as he angrily threw blows on the punching bag. The Samoan raised a brow when Lawson cursed, then growled. _Punch, punch, punch_.

Shannon shrugged nonchalantly, jutting out her bottom lip. "Pfft, I dunno. Beats me."

"He's taken on the thing for nearly thirty minutes, sans break," Christian said, calculating this on his Rolex. He flickered his gaze to Lawson again. _Punch, punch, punch_. "I mean, what's up his ass today?" He paused. Shannon's eyes drifted involuntarily to Lawson's tight ass in those shorts. "Wait… Actually, make that everyday. But seriously, he's like fucking Hulk or something right now."

"Just leave him alone," Shannon said, rolling her eyes, though she was curious herself.

She didn't know why he was so tense. He seemed okay in the locker room, until afterward… Shannon inwardly panicked. What if she said something that made him angry. _Oh God_. Not that she _remembered _anything that made him like this. She hadn't insulted him or anything.

Shannon blinked. Or had she?

He couldn't have been jealous, could he?

Shannon wiped that thought of her mind, mentally scolding herself. God, he was with that journalist, Jacinta Burns, for goodness sake. Which made him totally unavailable.

"Or maybe," Christian said in a hushed voice, as if this suddenly just sprung into his mind, "he's sex deprived. You know, dry spell? I mean, I _know _he's seeing that journalist, Josie or Jacquelyn or whatever, but I remember when she visited last month, and she's kinda, you know…" he trailed off and nodded slowly, not wanting to continue lest Lawson might hear and put him through a wall.

"Bitchy? High-maintenance?" Shannon finished, a knee-jerk answer that rambled off her tongue before she even had a chance to think. She bit her lip.

"_Exactly_." Christian nodded, before continuing. "So, I'm thinking that Lawson's girlfriend's making him wait and suffer for several weeks without sex, so that when he's desperate for it, she'll break the ice. You catch my drift?"

Shannon raised an eyebrow at the beefy Samoan, tugging at her sports bra strap. "What the fuck, Christian? That's not even the slightest bit plausible."

"Yes, it is," Christian said, nodding, so serious, so solemn. "It's total dominatrix stuff and Lawson's girlfriend seems kinda that type. You know, sadistic. I mean, my wife does it to me all the time."

Shannon's jaw dropped in disgust. "Oh, God, Christian!"

Christian grinned cheekily. "That's what Annie screamed last night. Speaking of, since she's preggers, she's like, extra hormonal."

_Too much information_, Shannon thought. She scoffed. "Fucking horndog. Someone should put you in a sex rehab."

"Hey, hey! Don't be jealous 'cause I'm gettin' action, Blue Eyes," Christian said, still grinning. "Just because you've taken a vow of celibacy, doesn't give you the right to deride others because they're having hot intercourse. But of course, I'm very proud of you, Saint Shannon." He placed his hand on his heart to emphasise this. "Giving up sex for God… Man, you know, some people can't do what you do."

"Fuck up, assclown."

"Mornin' TR1. Isn't it a lovely day today?" Constable Michael Sandrelli exclaimed as he sauntered into the training room with a omnipresent grin on his face.

Shannon snorted, rubbing her eyes. "Well, if you could call a winter's day in Melbourne lovely. Then, whatever lifts your skirt."

"And of course it's good to see that Sergeant Henry is happy-go-lucky than ever," Michael replied sarcastically. "God, I am so lucky to be living with the happiest woman on Earth."

"Shut up, Muppet. I had a late night."

"I was very well aware of that," Michael said, nodding. "You woke me up in the wee hours because you forgot your key."

Christian laughed, nudging Shannon's side sharply with his elbow. "What? You didn't tell me, Shannon. You get laid last night? Broken the drought?"

Shannon glared at her colleague. "Oh, very funny. For your information –"

"Hey! Shan, Christian!" Lawson's voice cut through the air, practically growling. Shannon felt her heart leap in shock. Shit, he sounded so fucking angry. It was kinda hot, despite and the weirdness of it all. His body was tense and his jaw was clenched. "What are you incompetent people doing just _sitting_ there? Let's go get ready, for goodness sake!"

And then he was out – accompanied with a march and a door slam.

Michael blinked, taken aback, as if Lawson's bossiness was a first. "Whoa, holy shit. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed," he muttered. "Gee whiz."

"Ha-ha. See?" Christian said to Shannon in a know-it-all, smartarse manner, gesturing to the door with his thumb which Lawson had just slammed, as if that just proved his theory. "Told ya, Henry. Sex deprived."

THE DRIVE AROUND the streets of Melbourne patrolling, was quiet.

No, actually, _tense _was a more adequate adjective for this, Shannon thought. So tense, you could serve it with a scoop of ice-cream. The type of tension that permeated through the air.

And although with zero evidence or confirmation, it was clear that this tension was created by Lawson.

Because he was completely mute and oblivious to everything.

Even with Christian's perpetual commentary, which was this running monologue about the most trivial things ever, that had always annoyed Lawson to no end, had went unnoticed today.

Even Christian's stupid birdcall imitating shit hadn't fazed Lawson either.

Shannon was silent as well, sitting in the backseat and occasionally sipping on her French vanilla cappuccino, whilst covertly sneaking cursory glances at Lawson, studying his body language. From her peripheral vision, she could see that his broad shoulders were squared, his posture was ramrod straight and his arms were crossed over his chest. Shannon read once in a magazine that arm folding was a telltale sign that someone was being deliberately incommunicative. Or some shit like that.

Maybe Christian was right – he _was_ deprived of sex. That was why he'd changed so suddenly when she said that she'd gotten some – even though she really hadn't. He was jealous because he was _sexless_.

It made sense.

_Right_?

"So, Senior Sergeant," Christian said to Lawson, while he was cruising through the main road. "How's Jacinta?"

Shannon rolled her eyes from the back seat, albeit smirking in amusement.

Lawson, who was previously looking out the window vacantly now slowly reared his head to look at Christian, an eyebrow arched. "What?"

"Jacinta? You know, your _girlfriend_? How is she?"

There was a pregnant pause. Lawson's mind was obviously reeling. Shannon could _almost _hear the wheels turning in his head. It was _that _palpable.

"She's fine," Lawson said slowly through gritted teeth, studying Christian curiously. "_Why_?"

Christian shrugged nonchalantly, slowing to a stop at a traffic light. "No reason," he answered quickly and casually, as if his questioning was absolutely normal. From the rear-view mirror, Christian sent Shannon a told-you-so grin. "See, what did I tell you, Shannon?"

Shannon snickered at this inside joke that Lawson obviously wasn't privy to.

"What?" Lawson demanded, clearly miffed. "Come on now, share the joke."

"You don't like jokes, Lawson," Shannon told him. "Besides, Christian's just being an idiot."

"Christian's always an idiot," Lawson said. Christian's jaw dropped, taking umbrage at this insult. Lawson seemed unfazed. "Now tell me what's so funny that you had to laugh at your boss."

Christian shook his head in laughter. "Oh no, man. You can't bring superiority factors into this."

From the side mirror, Shannon saw Lawson raise an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're making fun of my girlfriend or something? What? Tell me."

_Aw crap_.

For a stretched second, there was a _dead_ silence.

And then, a clear of the throat from Christian. "Fuck no, man. Dude, why would we _do _that?"

This was a rhetorical question.

Again, another tensely intense silence, so thick, so tangible, someone could cut through it with a fucking knife.

Lawson was quiet, and although he didn't _say _anything, Shannon knew that his mind was running, thinking, _probing_ this, trying to figure it out.

It wasn't like Christian and her _had _talked about Jacinta in a snarky way. Christian had just guessed that Lawson's girlfriend was somewhat sadistic. Which happened to be the reason Lawson was so goddamn moody.

Like now, for example, as his eyebrows creased together, his facial expression of the day.

And she felt kind of concerned and worried…

"Lawson," Shannon said, her voice taking on a more tentative tone. "Are you okay?"

Pause. "Fine," he replied monosyllabically.

It was clear to her that he was being evasive.

"A one-syllable answer doesn't cut it, Lawson," Shannon told him. "Something's obviously bothering you."

He sighed loudly, as if answering a question was such a hardship. "I am fine," he said vehemently, stressing the sentence, like it pained him to even say it. "Hey, look. That's three syllables." Sarcasm.

She narrowed her eyes and her jaw clenched involuntarily, hating that she was pushed aside even though she'd been caring. Ungrateful son of a bitch. "Fine," she spat, throwing a one-syllable reply of her own.

If he was going to be this fucking broody the whole day, week, month, then fuck that.

Fuck him.

THE REST OF the day was entirely uneventful, to say the least. Public brawls, speeding, teenage gangsters and drunkards roaming the streets with their pants soaked with piss. The usual. Which was somewhat funny, because there were days that involved hostages and explosives and drugs and dangerous shit like such, that typical days like today were seriously underwhelmed.

Shannon yawned loudly as she opened her locker, tugging at her bra. Her breasts were fucking tender. It had been sore all day. "Ah, fuck," she muttered, wincing. "My boobs hurt like shit."

"I know. You complained all day," Christian said tiredly, toeing off his boots.

"Or maybe," Brendan Joshua said to her, voice monotonous, "you just have big bazookas."

From somewhere, Michael snickered at this.

Shannon scoffed. _Idiot_. Josh should've known what her boobs looked like anyway. They did have a little thing going on once upon a time. "I so do not," she told him, indignant. "They're substantial."

Stella laughed loudly, her voice reverberating through the walls. She peered closer at Shannon's cleavage. "Well, under close scrutiny, they're big. Ooh, looky look, your friends, Perky and Supple, have come out to play! Oh, which is great, because I'm taking you out tonight, babe. With a v-neck dress, guys will be all over you. Seriously."

Shannon shook her head. She didn't want to be abandoned again, have fat truck drivers ogle her like she was a piece of damn meat and being bored as _fuck_. She didn't have that patience. "Mmmm. No, not again. I'm tired and Michael's driving me batshit about groceries."

"You're boring." Stella pouted childishly. "Alright, alright, woman. Raincheck, then?"

_Persistent little runt_. Shannon waved her hand. "Whatever."

After a collective round of goodbyes and see-you-tomorrows, and Michael reminding her to make a trip to Coles, And with the reminder to buy _non-scented _toilet paper, because the flowery smell of them apparently made him nauseous. But what kind of idiot sniffed toilet paper anyway, in the first place?

Shannon made her exit, before stopping in her tracks as she saw Lawson leaning against her hood of her Camry.

He'd been cranky all shift, like he was suffering from some male form of premenstrual syndrome or some shit. Not to mention that he'd been avoiding her, not even bothering to make eye contact and only talking to her when work came to it.

It was like he was _purposely_ avoiding her.

But here he was.

Shannon blinked, taking in his appearance.

He looked _good_.

Very casual. He was dressed in a white fitted tee, showing off his well-defined muscles and toned body, a black leather jacket to enhance the 'bad boy' appeal, and faded blue jeans that showed his butt. Despite everything, she had to swallow at his hotness.

Who was she kidding?

He was gorgeous.

"Hi," he said, practically leaping off her car and standing up straighter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She said this a little bit coldly, because it'd still hurt, like a fresh wound.

He ran his hand through his hair, obviously stressed out. Shannon had to smirk at that – it was too cute. His light brown, soft-looking hair looked sexy as fuck now, effortlessly _tousled, _like he'd just gotten out of bed. "Shit," he muttered, mostly to himself. He cleared his throat, speaking louder. "Look, Shan, I'm sorry. I've been a dick today."

Shannon nodded. "Yeah, I agree,"

He let a short laugh at her honesty. "Gee, thanks."

She laughed too. "No, it's fine. I forgive you."

He nodded. "That's good."

And there it was again. _Tension_. Always ever-present. It was like a buzz of high-voltage electricity between them, like a power-struggle.

For a moment, they stared at each other.

Even though from a distance, his eyes literally _burn_ into hers, his unfathomable brown eyes piercing into her light blue ones. She realised that this was a stalemate, the situation of which there is no further worthwhile action.

Until a clatter from somewhere interrupted their staring contest.

So that was when walked towards her car, taking out her keys out of the pocket of her jacket. She flashed him a close-lipped smile. "I should go. See you tomorrow, right?"

"Hey. Wait."

Shannon paused, as she felt his hand around her wrist. And honestly, it was like she'd forgotten how to breathe. It was enough to send shivers down her spine, cause her to stop breathing and cause her heart to beat irregularly. Her mouth dropped open at his closeness. _Has a girlfriend, has a girlfriend, has a girlfriend… _

"What?" she whispered breathlessly.

"How about we go get a beer at the pub, hm? A peace offering of sorts?" He let go off her wrist, to her disappointment, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Shannon regained her composure after the momentary trance and arched an eyebrow. "Were we at war?"

"No," he answered slowly. "Fine, let's just all this a friendly post-work drink."

Shannon winced, pursing her lips in thought. "Oh, shit. Sorry, I'm supposed to pick up some groceries at Coles or else Michael's gonna go freakin' mad."

"Aw, come on, Shan," he urged, like a child wanting to go to the park. He grinned, and it was so hard to say no to that. His smile was absolutely breathtaking. "Coles is open 24/7. Come on, just one drink. My shout."

His smile had done it. Shannon sighed and let her arms drop as a manifestation of defeat. "Okay, fine."

honestly, THANKS FOR READING! i realised that this is so long, but oh well!

you, dahhhhlin', have officially become my best friend! i love you!

should I cont.?

x


	2. Drunk

**A/N:**

I AM SOLEMNLY SORRY! oh gosh. i know i said that i would update about a MILLION YEARS AGO but i promptly forgot about this after i posted it and then a few months later i read it and cringed at my writing and i swore to myself i would update because i love you guys for letting me know you loved it, but then i had a zillion of schoolwork (and I sound truly pathetic, I know.)

was that a bunch of crap you didn't need to know? probably. anyway, Rush ended and Michael died! WHAT? ): but I hope some FF can entertain you and be an peace offering to you as a beer is a peace offering to Shannon!

and you guys loved it? what? seriously? half the time i'm writing nonsense, and i was so thrilled! honestly, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. anyways, you all probably forgot about this story so righto then… oh and btw, i really have to make Jacinta's character a bitch for later chapters. i hate it, because i absolutely _love_ Asher Keddie, but didn't particularly like her character in Rush…

XXXXX

**Chapter Two - Drunk**

_THIS WAS A bad idea_, SHANNON thought, trying to conjure up with excuses of why it wasn't in her schedule to share a drink with Lawson, a _taken _man, for goodness sake. Tiredness, maybe? Or Michael was afraid of the dark? The latter sounded good, plausible. Michael _was _the world's greatest pussy after all and -

"Shan."

Shannon looked up and met Lawson's frowning face. "Yeah? Sorry."

His frown deepened. "Are you… okay? I mean, it's not this…" He gestured between them two. "…isn't it?"

"No," Shannon said quickly. "Just… aren't you supposed to be with Jacinta now though? I don't think she'll appreciate you having a drink with a female colleague."

"Nah, she's in Adelaide. Some big arse serial killer story over there or something." He shrugged. Took a sip of his beer. Glanced around the pub, "Besides, you're my friend, right?"

The F-word went through Shannon's chest painfully. But she smiled. "Of course."

Lawson smirked. "Although… we used to be _friendlier _back in the day."

Shannon rolled her eyes. She _really _didn't want to think of that. If she did, she wouldn't be able to contain herself, throwing herself shamelessly at a completely unavailable man. "Shut the fuck up," she said without heat.

But Lawson didn't. He grinned. "Hey, there were some good times."

Shannon smiled. "Don't flatter yourself, Blake. I've had better."

The mirthfulness that was there was completely wiped off. "What, with your new boyfriend?"

_Boyfriend? _Shannon thought. What the hell -

_Oh. _

_Shit._

Right. This morning, when she jokingly lied to him that she was on a date the night before (when she was really at a club with Stella) and then he got crazy pissed off for no apparent reason. The bloody dumbarse still thought she was with a guy. Well, she wasn't going to look like an idiot who lied to her boss so…

"Right," Shannon said smoothly.

Lawson jaw clenched and he took a gulp of beer. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand roughly. "What his name?" he asked.

_Name? _What was this, fucking twenty questions or something now? Shannon hesitated, sipping her beer to stall. "Is that really necessary?"

"Hey, I just want to know his name, not his penis size by inch," Lawson said. Shannon choked on her mouthful. "Why, is it a really embarrassing name? Like Dick? Or… Wolfgang?"

"Wolfgang?"

"Just give me the name, Shannon," he said exasperatedly.

A million male names flashed through Shannon. "It's… Michael."

Oh. Jesus. Fuck. Out of all the names, it had to be her colleague's/housemate's name!

_Kill me now, God. Just take me._

Lawson reacted the worst though. He spluttered in disbelief and his voice came out hoarse when he choked out, "_Michael_? As in, _our _Michael?"

Well, Shannon had to make-do with what she got. She wasn't sergeant for no reason after all. She rolled her eyes. "No, shitdick. A different one. It's a common name."

Lawson recovered from his shock and sit up straight. "Oh. Well, fuck. _Imagine _if it _were _bloody Sandrelli."

Shannon winced. "I'd… prefer not."

"Yeah. Right. So what does not-our-Michael do for living?"

Shannon narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was going to stack on another lie for her phantom boyfriend. But just to get him out of her hair… "Accountant. Now shut up and drink."

XXXXX

"OKAY," SHANNON SAID, her head resting on her hand. She swayed a little in her bar stool. "Kerry is _so_ gonna kick our hangover arse tomorrowwww."

Lawson nodded in agreement. "Lady needs to get laid," he said matter-of-factly. He giggled uncharacteristically and pressed his finger to his lips. "Shhhh," he whispered, as if Kerry was within earshot. "Don't tell her."

"Locked and threw away the key," Shannon said, waving her hand airily.

They erupted into another fit of giggles. So they were acting like a couple of teenagers discovering the effects of alcohol for the first time but who the fuck cared?

"Righty-o," Pete, the bartender said to the both of them, his face bemused. "You guys are cut off. You're having too much fun."

"Nooooo," Shannon said. Or slurred. Whatever. Everything felt like one big blur to her. "We are not drunk. I swear on my left tit."

Pete quirked an eyebrow and chuckled, removing their bottles off the bar. "Not drunk, huh? Right, and I'm Johnny Depp. Want me to call youse a cab?"

Lawson looked Shannon through barely-opened eyes. 'Whaddya think, Henry? Shall we take this party of two elsewhere? The bloke over here cut off our supply."

"Right. Let's go."

Lawson handed the bartender a wad of notes. "No change. 'Sgo, Shan."

Outside the pub, it was chilly, a mere eighteen degrees and Shannon prayed the cab could come a little bit faster. The road was bare and quiet but Lawson wasn't. "Oh God," he said. "This feels… fuckin' liberating. Probably gotta feel like a piece of shit tomorrow but bloody well worth it."

Shannon closed her eyes and leant her head back about the brick wall. She crossed her arms for warmth. "Mmmm."

Lawson looked over at her and noticed her freezing state, even though he was thoroughly shitfaced. "You cold? Want my jacket?"

"Nah…" Shannon said, clutching her head. "You'll catch a cold."

Shrugging his leather jacket off anyway, Lawson put the clothing over her shoulders. Warmth enveloped her. Shannon opened her eyes.

Lawson looked down at her, hot, dark eyes intent on her, and suddenly, she didn't seem drunk anymore. His hand lingered on her neck, and went down, tracing her collarbone and Shannon breath became fast, and bit her lower lip, which made Lawson look there and -

"Shit," he said. He also seemed clear minded now. His face seemed like stone. "No. We shouldn't. This is a bad idea.

Shannon blinked a few times. "Yes, the worse," Shannon said, breathy. "We're drunk and just horny."

His hand went up anyway, to cup her cheek lightly. He hand was shaking, torn between desire and logic. "This is dumb. So dumb."

Shannon leaned forward and bunched his shirt in her hands. "Then stop."

His eyes drifted down to where Shannon's hands were at, then he looked up, pained, confused and blurred. His hand wove into her hair and Shannon's heart just about stopped. "I… can't."

"Then…" Shannon's lifted his shirt a little so she could touch his torso. She was sure she was going to regret it, so would he, but they'd gone to far now to even consider stopping. "Then don't."

Then, he kissed her. It wasn't gentle, like the end of a 50's romance film. It was demanding, thorough, passionate, as if they starved for each another like it was oxygen. It was hot, so hot, and when he stroked his tongue with her, she groaned and he pulled back and said, "Oh, hell," and then he pressed into her and made her damn lose her mind and…

"Bad, bad idea," Lawson said like it was a reminder to himself, his voice husky, and Shannon said, "_More,_" and there was no way he'd refuse that.

He kissed her again, and as he was about to ease his hands under her shirt…

His phone rang.

Lawson pulled back as fast as if he'd been electrocuted, as if she were _diseased,_ and he was breathing hard. "Christ!" he yelled into the frigid air and stumbled because he was drunk and had a lack of equilibrium. "Fucking hell."

Shannon fell back against the wall, wanting to cry, and hating herself because she wanted to. They should've stopped. But it was too hard.

Lawson glanced at his phone, debating whether to take the call. Shannon knew who it was on the other line. It was like a sixth sense. _Jacinta. _He sighed, running a hand down his tired face and pressed silent on his cell. "Look, Shan. I'm sorry, it was my fault. Just… forget it happened."

Shannon nodded. It hurt to hear that, God it did, but there was no other way. What they did was in the moment of passion and they were drunk and that was easy, believable. What she couldn't deny, however, was that she wanted him. But she wasn't going to be a home wrecker either. She'd best stay away.

The taxi drive home was eerily quiet.

XXXX

SHANNON WOKE UP, feeling completely shit. There was no way to describe it, really. First, she noticed her pounding head, throbbing relentlessly. Then, the sun peeking out the curtains and that made her head hurt even more. And then, she remembered her and her boss, practically near-doing it in front of a pub.

She groaned. A guilty conscience. She hated it.

"Shannon?"

Michael stood at the doorway, coffee and the mail in his hand.

"Mmmm?"

"Did you," he said, "get the supplies last night?"

Shannon's head was fuzzy. "What?"

"Groceries, Shannon. Did you get them?"

_Go away, Michael, you pest. _"Uh… I got… tied-up."

"What were you doing?" he asked.

"Friend's house." _I drunkenly made out with the Senior Sergeant last night. And we were practically dry humping for the world to see until his girlfriend called._

"Well, get them today. Or else you owe me a beer at the pub. Oh, and," Michael looked down at the stack of letters, "a letter for you. It has no returning address or anything, it just says, '_Shannon_'. Weird… Whatever, here." Michael tossed the letter on the bed. "Anyway, get up and get ready. Duty calls. And by the way, you look like shit right now."

"Gee, thanks," Shannon said.

And he left.

Shannon withdrew her blanket slowly. _Okay_. Okay. So a couple of drunken kisses. No biggie. It was alcohol. And alcohol made them lose their inhibitions. That was easy to believe.

So when she was going to work, she would reiterate this theory to Lawson, so that he wouldn't feel guilty. And she was going to make sure she would never be in close proximity to Lawson Blake ever again. So that ruled out going to the pub with him in promise of a beer.

It was impossible because, of course, they were colleagues, but she had to try.

Shannon got her head straight and stared at the nondescript letter on her bed. Grabbing it and turning it over, she had to say that Michael was right. Strange. It had no address, no stamp, so it had to been personally delivered to her house.

_Shannon_, it said, and that was all.

Ripping it open and unfolding the piece of paper inside it, Shannon rolled her eyes. Who the hell writes letters anymore? Who the hell would come specifically to her house to drop a letter? That was seriously ridiculous and -

She wasn't a pussy. No, Shannon was a tough woman, but this made her heart stop.

The letter read three words:

_You're mine, Henry._

xxx


End file.
